


On Choice

by teacup_of_doom



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Choices, Confusion, Consequences, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, Gen, Lone Power has Ideas, Mentions of Darryl, Mentions of Ponch, Missing Persons, On Errantry, Ordeals, Talking, The Meaning of Choices, Worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacup_of_doom/pseuds/teacup_of_doom
Summary: Twelve young wizards go missing on Ordeal - Nita, Kit, and Ronan are put on the case. Eventually, Nita and the chief suspect - the One who always is the chief suspect - have a talk.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LillyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyRose/gifts).



> Hi LillyRose! Happy Yuletide! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic!

* * *

 

_  
“Twelve kids – all on Ordeal – have gone missing across the country in the past month.” Carl said. They were sitting around the Swale-Romeo kitchen table, mugs of caffeinated goodness in front of them. Nita, Ronan (who had been visiting the States for the summer) and Kit had been awaked by a very early morning call from their manuals (though in Ronan’s case, he’d just got the message in his head). As it was an emergency, Carl wouldn’t say what was going on even through the manuals. _

_ By the time the three of them had gotten dressed and over to Tom and Carl’s house, their listings in the manual had gone from ‘inactive’ to ‘On Errantry’. _

_ “I know that isn’t unusual, unfortunately.” Nita said slowly. “When we were looking for Darryl, during his Ordeal, it came up as a possibility.” _

_ “And one of you told us that sometimes there are kids who go missing, and some – not all of them – are kids on Ordeal.” Kit said.  _

_ Carl nodded. “It does, sadly, happen, yes.” He said, though he looked more tired than the early hour of the morning accounted for. “But not all at once, and…there are some abnormalities in these cases that suggest something else is going on.” _

_ “Like what?” Ronan asked, a warm, solid presence on Nita’s right. _

_ “The Seniors who brought it to our attention mentioned that some of the kids in question had been having strange dreams, or waking dreams, very often.” Tom replied. “The dreams, or visions, were apparently so strong, so real, that some of the kids were getting confused as to what was real.” _

_ Nita exchanged looks with Ronan and Kit. _

_ “That’s heavy,” Kit responded. “I’m not sure where we come in though.” _

_ “Nita,” Carl nodded in her direction, “you’re becoming experienced in lucid dreaming, and as such, you are more likely to be able to tell what the kids in question are actually experiencing.” _

_ “I…suppose I can.” Nita said. “I can try, at least.” _

_ “And Kit and I?” Ronan leaned forward with a gleam in his eye that suggested to Nita that he was hoping, at some point, to be able to find something to hit. Probably whatever was snatching the kids. _

_ “Tracking.” Tom said. “I know it’ll be a little different without Ponch,” he said to Kit. “But you did great on your own when it came to Darryl, and Ronan-” he looked to the Irishman. “Well…” _

_ “I’m good at hitting back.” Ronan grinned. _

_ Nita snorted into her coffee. He was that, with the Champion in him or not. _

_ “Do you have any ideas as to what might be taking the kids?” Kit said. “It could be something wizardly – or not.” There was always the possibility that whatever was causing the kids to disappear wasn’t related to the Art, but the odds were slim considering all the kids had been on Ordeal at the time. _

_ “No.” Carl said. “But as far as the manuals, and Higher Ups, are concerned, the kids are relatively safe and still, effectively, participating in their Ordeals.” _

_ Nita frowned. “So, whatever is going on, we need to find them, and still make sure not to interfere. Even if something is apparently trying to interfere with the Ordeals anyway.” _

_ Tom nodded. “Whatever happens, happens. They either become wizards, or not. As long as you find them, we, and their families, would be grateful.” _

_ “We’ll do our best.” Said Kit, speaking for them all. _

_ Carl grinned. “That’s what we were hoping you’d say.” _

* * *

  
Nita had been running, frantically, her moonlight-soaked wand in one hand, dodging around the corners of buildings, trying to get to where she knew their last location had been.

Ronan had been the first of the trio to have a waking dream. One minute he’d been with them, in a small town in Rhode Island, hunting down a lead with Kit, and suddenly he’d straightened, split off from the group, and started walking down the Main Street, babbling in Gaelic and acting as if – as if he were somewhere else. They’d narrowly avoided a fistfight with him, and Ronan had only stopped when Kit had frozen his feet in place.

When Ronan pulled out of it, he’d been shaken, unsure of where he was at first, clutching at Nita’s sleeves like a lifeline. For a minute, he’d been at home, in Ireland, at the pub, and frighteningly, for the entirety of the sequence, Ronan had had no recollection of Nita, or Kit, or of Wizardry. Worse still, despite the fact that Ronan’s ‘manual’ was essentially in his own head, for the space of half an hour he had trouble recalling bits of the Speech.

Nita had been there, with Kit, when Kit had his own episode. They had found a couple of the missing kids by then, had delivered the pair to Tom and Carl with a little bit of difficulty. Alicia, all of nine years old, had kicked Ronan in the shins, terrified of them, or the monsters she thought they were, coming after her. Mosi, fourteen years old, had been more aware of what was real and what was not, but it had taken Nita four hours to see what the younger boy was seeing – twisting her abilities to do so – and to talk him into coming with them.

Whatever either of them had been experiencing, one part of their narratives had been exactly the same. Someone, in the shape of a helpful stranger, had been trying to convince them one world was real over the other. To choose the world where the Art didn’t exist. Those who were trying to fight back were losing, bit by bit, some parts of the Speech. Not permanently, thankfully, as Ronan and Kit both had recovered what they’d lost.

But it was like they were being sapped of the Art, through the words that made everything possible, losing parts of the Speech that ensured their ability to cast spells, to protect themselves.

It hadn’t taken more than a minute for Kit, Ronan and Nita to piece together what had been going on. They - and Tom and Carl, and other Seniors - should have guessed, from the start, as to whom was behind the disappearances of the twelve kids on Ordeal. All things, in the end, led to the Lone Power.

Whatever that One was doing, It was trying something new.

Ronan had probably been first of the ‘search- and-rescue’ team to have a waking dream because of his connection to Peach. Kit, maybe because he  _ was _ the tracker. And Nita…hadn’t had one yet. Which meant that it was only a matter of time.

Nita dove through a park gate – it was late afternoon, so there were people milling around – and it was her destination. With so many people around, someone would have noticed a kid – or multiple kids – acting odd. She had to slow down as the stitch in her side got more painful, and then again slackening to a walk, heaving deep breaths. Kit had contacted her mentally, they’d found something, had possibly been close to one of the first of the kids to have vanished – a boy named Ivan – and then had gone radio silent, but not before triggering the alert on her wrist – a spell that looked like a charm bracelet -  that they’d set up just in case one of them had another waking dream.

Only this time, both Kit and Ronan’s charms had gone off.

Nita kept going. She was close, she knew she was.

Suddenly, as if it had never existed, the park was gone. There had barely been a transition, but instead of a well manicured, stone pathway, Nita found herself on a grassy hillside, and she could see the ocean, see the grey-blue waves crashing on the beach below. Her hair whipped around her head as the wind pulled at it. Nita heaved a couple of breaths, searching for stability.

She knew what this was – this was a waking dream. It had to be. But it… didn’t feel like the dreams she was used to, the kind she usually wrote down in her notebook. Something… felt off about this.

If Nita hadn’t known what to look for, if she hadn’t had the experience of lucid dreams that she did, she might not think so but… The grass was maybe too uniformly green. She could feel the air – or the dream’s version of air – around her, and knew that it was cold – except that she’d been wearing a t-shirt while running, and she was warm. Nita shakily reached up the hand that held her moonlit rowan want to sweep the hair out of her eyes, and then stopped, and looked down at her empty hand. The stick was gone.

_ Why would I be carrying a stick in the first place? _ Nita thought.  _ Like it’s a kid’s toy, or – _

She jerked out of the thought.  _ No. _

“This isn’t real.” Nita yelled. “I know it isn’t, so you can stop that, right now!”

As if He’d always been there, the Lone Power was abruptly at her side. He wore a suit, dressed as It had been the first time she had seen It during her own Ordeal, in that horrible version of Manhattan. Windy as it appeared to be, not a hair moved on the Lone Power’s head.

“Hello Juanita.” It said, voice silky, dark, smiling at her. If Nita wasn’t so thoroughly familiar with how dangerous this Power was, she could be taken in by the unnatural handsomeness of the Lone Power’s face, the false congeniality in the smile. That smile that, as Nita saw it, chilled her to the bone, reminding her momentarily, of the Wolf that Ate the Moon.

“Fairest and fallen,” Nita said, giving the customary opening. “Greetings and defiance.”

The Lone One rolled It’s eyes. “Of course.” It snorted. “Always with defiance.”

“Send me back to the park.” She said, not phrasing it as a demand – that would be overly dangerous. “I’m not on my Ordeal.”

“Are you not?” The Lone Power said, sounding amused. “Every moment, every fraction of a mortal life, is a choice, Juanita.” It said, allowing itself the displeasure of a grimace. “Choice is integral to how you live, how most sentient beings live and I so often am the harbinger of choices.” It smiled again. “Imagine what choices you can make.”

“It’s a new tactic for you.” Nita said, with her fists clenched, not that the Power would miss that. She did not like It’s focus on her, and tried to change the subject. “Taking kids en-masse.”

The Lone Power laughed, making Nita shudder visibly. “It is your fault.”

Nita went numb. “What?”

“You gave me ideas, Juanita.” It said. “For aeons, I have played the same game – a new wizard comes, and they face their Ordeal. You changed things, dearest, when you had the audacity to change my  _ name _ .” It glared at Nita, dangerous and wild all at once.

Internally quailing, Nita stood her ground. “You said everything was a choice.” She said firmly. “You made one before, and I gave you the chance to make another. For a Power that thrives on the choices that people make, having choice of Your own, for the first time in forever…”

The Lone Power’s jaw clenched. Nita decided not to push it.

She cocked her head to the side, looking at It. “What have you been doing to the kids? And my friends?”

The Lone Power looked from Nita to the fake, churning, sea. “Imagine,” It said brightly. “So many new wizards brimming with power to slow my beautiful, underappreciated Gift.” Nita bristled, but said nothing, letting the Lone Power speak. “Their choice is, of course, their own. My job, Juanita, is to make that Choice a hard one.” Something foul glistened in It’s eyes. “How hard can I make that Choice? Hard enough, perhaps, that they are unable to even make it? Wizardry, after all, will not live in the unwilling heart.”

Nita went cold. “You’re not blocking their Ordeals, you’re making it so that these kids can’t even think of their Ordeals. They’re in limbo.” She was horrified. “They don’t know what world they’re in, so they don’t know if their Ordeals are real, or if they’re imagining it. Ronan, and Kit, they - ”

The Lone Power laughed, and Nita was suddenly furious.

“Send me back.” She snapped. “And release Kit and Ronan, release  _ everyone _ .”

The Lone Power’s smile was full of malice. “You cannot interfere with the Ordeals, little wizard.”

“No.” Nita said, “but we can make sure that those kids actually get to Choose. Actually get to face you with all their faculties.”

“You can try.” It said, harshly.

“And we will.” Nita promised. “You can be sure of that.”

It was silent for a moment, observing, before telling her, “You are getting older, Juanita. What happens when you stop being able to save them, your partner and the one that once faced Balor?” It taunted. “You’ll accept Me, soon enough.”

“That,” Nita said. “Is still a choice that only I can make.”

The waking dream snapped. Nita was back in the park, the Lone One’s snarl in her ears, fading. Her rowan branch was back in her hand, glowing, and the sun was now dropping behind the trees.

Nita ran. 

* * *

 


End file.
